What really happened
Wow, what a weird weekend. I managed to escape, though.
Remember back on 4/24 I posted an “awkward moment in dating?” About the girl who joked that she was stalking me? Go ahead, click the link, I’ll wait.
[Waiting]
We went out a couple of times, didn’t hit it off, and I thought that was that. Well, last week She showed up outside my work, which is weird, ’cause I move from building to building during the week at random. She asked me if I wanted to get some dinner, and as I started to answer, a van pulled up along the sidewalk right behind Her. The door opened, and She stepped back towards it, like she was expecting it, and I stepped forward out of curiosity, and, well, before I knew what hit me, I was falling forward into the van.
I must have blacked out for a bit. When I came to, I was in a windowless room (a basement, as it turns out, somewhere in the Coast Range). I was tied to a creaky old bed, and, well, naked… She was there, waiting for me to awaken… and… and…
…She did things to me that have never been done before.
Even though I was only there for about three days, the time seemed much longer than that. I’ll never be able to fully describe what happened to me in that time — words fail me when I try to remember. Images, sensations, all blur into each other. Colors have a scent and sounds taste like… like…
At some point, the combination of the oils and the flames must have loosened my bonds, but I had retained enough animal cunning not to reveal that fact to Her right away. My resistance must have been more than She expected, because it seemed to me that She had tired a bit too quickly after only three days, but this didn’t disappoint Her, no, it seemed to excite Her all the more… which chills me to my core thinking about it now. What more could She do to me that hadn’t already been done? I knew I had to make an escape.
It may have been moments later, it may have been hours, I’ll never be sure, but some time later I heard an electronic noise that cut through my delirium: an S.O.S. Her cell phone was getting a text message! I had heard that before on one of our dates. She seemed torn between continuing Her assault on me and responding to the text message, but though it was a close battle, in the end Her desire for attention was victorious over Her lust for taking me to my physical limits. I humbly believe that my resistance was also a factor; She was both ennervated by the struggle with me as well as feeling the need to, well, brag about me. I was the strongest victim She had yet encountered.
For some reason (vanity? embarassment?) She left the room to respond to the text message. The sound of Her high heels on the concrete steps filled my soul with mounting joy, quickly replaced by a rage and a cunning cold intellect that aided my escape. Once free of my bonds, I was able to locate another doorway out of the room that I was previously unable to see from my prone position. My strength returning, I scrambled up the stairs I found. The small vestibule I emerged in was filled with candles illuminating shelves of alien-shaped ceramic containers and glassware, all filled with horribly-colored substances, liquid, oils, powders. But I had no attention for the foul contents of the room, for on the other side of a pentagram on the floor came a freshening breeze from the door open to the night.
But She was there, between me and my freedom.
Her naked body shimmered in the night, dancing and chanting in a sacrificial rite. I bolted past her, nearly slipping on the ashes at my feet, shoving her aside in my haste to escape. She must have fallen against the shelves, stumbled into one of the candelabra, because the room behind me brightened as the flames ignited something flamable…
As my wounds and burns were salved by the night air, the house behind me was consumed by a cleansing fire.
Luckily, before I could succumb to exposure, the firefighters that arrived to douse the wicked flames found me, wrapped me in an itchy wool blanket, and began the process that eventually returned me to the comfort of my home in south east Portland. I am thankful to those heroic men and women for their aid, as I was not a civilized man after my ordeal. I am both haunted by and strengthened by the events of the past several days, perhaps a few more grey hairs on my head, but I retain a steely resolve in my eye as well.
Either that, or I’ve been busy all weekend and haven’t had a chance to update my blog. One or the other.
